Catharsis
by Metalfan616
Summary: He'd been reading in the darkness and the silence in an attempt to forget the struggles of this new life and the pain of the past few days. Only it wasn't so silent any more. A look at Dale and Andrea post CDC


A/N I discovered this fic half written on my laptop during a file clean out a couple of days ago and decided to finish it. It was started way back, just after the last episode of season 1 aired and it doesn't fit the way series 2 has moved, (although the themes are much the same as the first episode) but I thought I'd post it anyway as it was done and there's not much out there about either Dale or Andrea at the moment. Let me know what you think, it's been awhile since I've written anything.

Dale felt the RV jerk and groan as T-Dog climbed down and, with a few muttered words, passed the rifle to Shane who replaced him as watch for the night. Shane's footsteps sounded across the rooftop briefly before halting as he settled down in the old folding deckchair.

In the moonlight that streamed in through the window beside his head, Dale was able to read the time on his meticulously set watch. It was two in the morning and camp was silent except for the sound of a tent unzipping; T-Dog settling down for the night no doubt.

The older man had been unable to sleep for the third night in a row - the third night since their lucky escape from the CDC - so instead he was reading to keep his mind from wandering. Or attempting to read anyway. The interruption of the watch change over had sparked him out of a reverie and he realised he'd re-read the same line five times now. He'd been unable to focus as his mind had kept wandering back to the same concerns and now his eyes followed suit, fixed out of the window on the small tent sat between T-Dog's and Daryl's. Andrea.

Since they had escaped, she'd barely said a word to anyone - let alone him - and it hurt. She sat alone mostly, avoiding eye contact, lost inside her own thoughts. When Dale did occasionally catch her eye what he saw within them scared him almost as much as her words in the CDC. There was a look of complete despair, and more than that, anger. Dale couldn't shake the feeling that she resented his actions, resented being forced to carry on with this struggle without her sister. Despite his still firm belief that he'd done the right thing in convincing her to leave, when he saw her sat with her eye's downcast and silent he couldn't help but feel a twinge of guilt as well. Perhaps it hadn't been fair.

If he was honest with himself, Dale thought, he had acted as much out of selfishness as selflessness. Every word he'd said to her had been true, he didn't want to carry on this fight without her. And if that had meant death then he realised he was ok with that. Over the past few weeks he'd come to the conclusion that he was just too old now to want to live purely for the sake of living. If he was to live now it had to be for something. And, he'd finally admitted to himself after much confusion and guilt, that something was now Andrea.

He sighed as he tried to turn his mind away from that new niggling issue. It was too raw just yet and he really did mean to get some sleep tonight. Instead he tried once again to focus upon the words on the page in front of him.

Though the RV was dark, the moon gave him just enough light to make out the words on the page. He almost didn't need the silver glow, so familiar were the dog-eared pages of _The Adventures of Tom Sawyer_. The copy he held had been 'borrowed' many, many years ago from school when assigned to read the book. A much younger version of himself had enjoyed it so much he had somehow forgotten to return the copy. In the darkness that surrounded him now, Dale found himself comforted by the stories and the memories they provoked. It was cathartic to read.

As Dale gradually began to lose himself once again within the pages something at the back of his mind began suggesting a faint sense of discomfort. He'd almost become so used to this continual sense of foreboding that he ignored it, but something made him pause in his reading and concentrate on the darkness and silence that surrounded him.

Only it wasn't so silent anymore.

Behind the ever present chirrup of the crickets and his own slow breathing, something was moving. There were no loud footsteps but he knew that the faint rustles that he heard were of movement.

Dale cocked an ear, listening intently until he was certain that the sound was drawing steadily closer. It was probably just an animal, he reasoned. A deer maybe, although the RV was parked away from the tree line (and from any potential hide out for the shambling walkers) and, he reasoned, Shane had made no sound from his watch position on the roof. All the same, he felt his heart speed up a beat. And then it almost felt like it stopped when there was faint rattle as the door at the opposite end of the RV was pushed slowly open.

The book fell from his hands, pages down and crumpled on the floor as he slid out from under the sheet and groped in the darkness for a weapon. There was nothing close to hand but he knew an old baseball bat was resting by the door. The door through which he could just make out the outline of someone entering.

Dale paused and squinted into the darkness and then began to step forward at a more confident pace. The movements of the figure in the dark were slow, furtive and deliberate. There was no shambling and flailing. It was not a walker.

There was a low creak as the figure opened a cupboard door. The sound made them whisper a curse under their breath, halt a second and then continue their movements, reaching in and running eager fingers over the contents.

"Andrea?"

Dale's voice was low, barely above a whisper but the younger woman still jumped and swore.

"Jesus, Dale, are you trying to give me a heart attack?"

Her voice was full of all of the anger of recent days and he nearly flinched.

"You nearly gave me one and my heart's not quite as robust as it used to be," he responded, trying to keep his tone light and letting a little of the relief he felt at seeing her there creep in. Then he clocked just where it was they were stood and instantly he felt doubt cloud his mind. Andrea was going through the medicine cabinet.

"Andrea, it's two in the morning. What're you looking for?"

She didn't respond and he glanced down to see one hand held tight in a fist at her side, the other resting on the cupboard door, ready to push it shut.

Dale swallowed back fear. She'd been so quiet the past few days, so withdrawn. _Ever since . . . ever since Amy's death_, he forced himself to think. And then there was the CDC. When she'd been so adamant that she was ready to end it all.

With deliberate caution and a slowness that asked her permission, Dale reached out to her closed hand. Andrea had a resigned look and didn't resist as he gently opened her fingers to reveal a pot of sleeping pills.

Dale felt his heart plummet down to his stomach. Andrea met his eye defiantly, daring him to ask the question, knowing exactly what it was he was thinking.

"Andrea . . . Why?"

Her hand was still wrapped in his when he asked the question but she withdrew it from his grasp, clutching at the pills as she answered.

"I'm not a child, Dale. And I'm not going to top myself. They're just so I can sleep."

Dale couldn't help the look of concern that shone through on his face and instantly Andrea's anger began to rise.

"They're for the nightmares, Dale. So I don't have to see -"

"It's ok, keep your voice down," Dale whispered as her words became louder. He didn't want the whole camp waking up and wandering up to the RV. He certainly didn't need her embarrassed and riled any further.

"I understand, it's just, Andrea, these are very addictive and the dosage-"

"Christ, Dale, would you just back off! I can sort myself out."

Her words had started off strong, filled with rage, but trailed off into sadness. It worried him almost more than the pills.

She was shaking, with suppressed anger or upset he couldn't tell, and in the silvery half light he could see her eyes shining with unshed tears. But now he stood this close to her, he could see how tired she was. The dark shadows under her eyes scared him, as did the slump of her shoulders and look of resignation where before he'd always seen strength and determination.

"Come and sit down for a minute, until you're alright."

He wasn't certain she'd listen to him, not after everything that had happened between them, but he was grateful when she relented and allowed him to place a hand on her arm and guide her to a seat on the spare bed opposite his own. Dale sat down cautiously beside her, very aware of her frayed nerves.

Her hands were shaking as they rested on her knees, the pills still clenched tight between her fingers. Dale found himself resisting the urge to remove them from her hand.

"How long have you been taking these?" he asked quietly.

Andrea didn't reply but kept her eyes down on her feet. He didn't push her for an answer, allowing her to calm down first. Anything to avoid a row.

As she fought to regain her composure, Andrea's gaze came to rest on Dale's book lying on the floor between their feet, the pages crumpled and twisted. She reached down and lifted the book, smoothing the corners of the pages out and gripping the binding tight.

"I remember her complaining for weeks about having to read this in school."

She traced the title of the book over the cover and gave a sad smile as she handed it back to Dale.

"I told her she'd learn to appreciate it if she actually read it rather than always reading the summary. But she didn't listen, didn't trust me. I was the unreliable older sister. Never there, never paying attention. Always off out in the world doing something too exciting to focus on her little sister. I was never there for her," she said, finally turning to look at him, the book held between them on the blanket.

"That's not true, Andrea. I saw the way you looked out for her in camp. You were there for her, right to the end. You can't keep beating yourself up over this, it's not right," Dale pleaded but she didn't seem to be hearing his words.

"I was finally going to get back to her, Dale." There was another tone coming through in her voice now, an edge of accusation that he didn't understand. "It was all going to be over and I was going to be with her and you took that from me."

It stung to hear the words said so clearly, even though he'd guessed what had been running through her mind in the hours since Amy's death and the CDC. And now that she'd said it, Dale found there wasn't much he could say, either to comfort her, or to defend himself. Instead he dropped his gaze from her, down to the book as he sought for anything, any words, paltry as they may be, to help. When he began to speak finally, it was slowly and hesitantly, unsure how she would respond.

"You know, when my wife died, I felt so angry at the world. It was like I'd been robbed of everything I felt I was owed. All of it just snatched away. And for a while I wondered what the point was in continuing to live. I mean, I'm over sixty," here he gave a rueful smile before continuing.

"My friends had grandchildren to worry about, my parents had died years ago, my siblings were spread out across the country and there I was on my own, her gone. Didn't even have a job any more to distract me. Now I'm not trying to say it's the same, I know it's not, I do. But, Andrea, there's so much more to go on for. None of us are alone. But I promise you I wasn't bluffing. If you were going to die I wanted to go to. Can you understand that?"

When he looked back up at her as he finished he was so uncertain of what he'd see that he could feel the tension inside of himself.

She looked shocked at first and he couldn't figure out why but slowly it dawned on him. She really had thought he was bluffing, that he'd known she would leave and save both their lives.

Dale waited as he watched this revelation sink in and wondered whether he'd done the right thing in telling her. All her righteous anger seemed to be draining away and in its place he could see only sadness. He'd rather have her rage at him.

Carefully he once again reached out for the tablets she was gripping tight between both hands. He paused as his fingers rested over hers. She kept her eyes on her hands for a moment, and Dale almost felt the air thicken as he watched her weighing up her options. He knew he wouldn't try to change her choice this time. Eventually, she released the pills with a shaky breath and he removed them. With their loss, the tears she'd been holding back began to silently fall.

Dale reached out a hand and placed it on her shoulder without even thinking but was caught off guard when she leant into him, resting her head against his shoulder. Carefully, he wrapped his arm around her and drew her closer to him.

"God, I just miss her so much," she said, her words muffled against his chest.

In the pale light that filled the RV Dale simply held her close and ran a comforting hand up and down her arm

"I know, I know," he sighed.


End file.
